


All Shook Up

by Klementine369



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - Greasers, Blood, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, One Shot, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 22:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5515253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klementine369/pseuds/Klementine369
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean sat up and held his face in his hands, clearly in pain. I'm not sure what possessed me to do so, maybe it was pity, maybe the fact that he looked almost-cute like that. Whatever the reason, I end up crouching in front of him asking if he's alright. When he heard my question he gave me a blood stained smirk and sarcastic thumbs up. “Never better freckles, thanks for asking.” Shakily, he got up and started walking away from the parking lot, leaving a small drip trail of blood. </p><p>A basic greaser!AU for http://marcobodtschickennuggets.tumblr.com/ I hope you enjoy it! Jean is an adorable dork, and Marco cares to much about a sad little greaser.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Shook Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MarcoBodtsChickenNuggets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarcoBodtsChickenNuggets/gifts).



The greaser boys are always getting into fights; more specifically Eren and Jean. Today was no different, they both get bloodied up, Jean is obviously going to win, and then Mikasa shows up to drag Eren away. I start walking to my car thinking the daily fight was over when I hear a shout of “Get off me, you bastard!” Turning around I'm shocked to see Jean on the ground with a furious Eren on top, punching him in the face. 

I came close to stepping in when Armin showed up. I'll never understand why blue eyes and bow ties always hangs out with one of the schools biggest delinquents, but if anyone can make Eren stop, it's him. “Eren, that's enough. Get off of him.” When the angry boy’s green eyes landed on the blonde he instantly looked ashamed. He got off Jean and stalked away. 

Jean sat up and held his face in his hands, clearly in pain. I'm not sure what possessed me to do so, maybe it was pity, maybe the fact that he looked almost cute like that. Whatever the reason, I end up crouching in front of him asking if he's alright. When he heard my question he gave me a blood stained smirk and sarcastic thumbs up. “Never better freckles, thanks for asking.” Shakily, he got up and started walking away from the parking lot, leaving a small drip trail of blood.

I knew I was going to regret asking, but I did it anyways. “Do you need a ride home? Maybe some help cleaning up?” He stopped dead in his tracks and glanced over his shoulder at me. “Why would you care?” Not having a good answer I just stared at him. We looked at each other for a moment before he turned and started walking toward me. “Fine.” Was all he said as he stopped in front of me, waiting to be led to the car. 

We stopped in front of my Skylark. I was deciding how to not get his blood all over my car, and he was just admiring it. “Nice car freckles, Daddy buy it for you?” I rolled my eyes at his question, even though he was right. “My name is Marco by the way. Since we both agree that it's a sweet car, how about we figure out not to get blood all over it?” Slipping his leather jacket off, he pulled his shirt over his head. I felt a slight blush on my cheeks as he exposed a thin yet strong frame. I was going to ask why he needed to get half naked when he pressed the shirt to his bleeding face. Picking up his leather jacket, he started for the passenger side. “What's wrong Marco? You said you didn't want blood all over your car.” 

Coming to, I agree and get in to start the car. When I started the engine Elvis’s “All Shook Up” started playing on the radio. Jean clearly enjoyed the song, humming along. I look over and could tell he was smiling under the shirt, a pleasant change from his normal scowl. We rode in silence until I turned to my side of town. “Marco I live the other way.” I turn to see the worried look on his face. “Don't worry, Jean, I'm taking you back to my place to fix you up. That okay?” He considered the idea for a bit before asking if my parents would be home. 

I kicked myself mentally for not thinking about that. The last thing I need is to show up to my house with a shirtless bleeding greaser. Thankfully, my father was at work and my mom was visiting her friend, so I wouldn't need to worry about my keepers for an hour or two, plenty of time to fix Jean up. 

We pull up to my home, a nice looking one story with cream colored paneling. Jean seemed to be hiding his admiration, not used to how neat it was on the east side of town. “Well come on, let's get you fixed up. I'll let you borrow a clean shirt.” We get out and I usher him to the door, quietly looking for nosy neighbors. Walking into the house, I have him follow me. I go to the bathroom and turn to tell him to wait there while I get a clean shirt, when I see just how out of place he looks. His blood soaked shirt and dark leather jacket were a stark contrast against the pastel colored living room. It was comical, almost cute. He approached me, looking small and helpless in my home, trying to look tough.  
“Wait here while I get you a clean shirt.” I head toward my room, wondering if he'll try to steal anything while I'm not looking, then scold myself for thinking so low of him. I grab a nice black cotton shirt that I wouldn't miss too much and go back to Jean. He stood in front of the bathroom looking more like an obedient puppy than a tough greaser. I smile at him and open the bathroom, patting the sink’s counter to signal where he should sit. He hopped up on the vanity and waited while I got the first aid kit. “You need to move your shirt so I can see how bad it is.” He looked nervous while he slowly moved his shirt. “Do I want to look in the mirror?” He had a busted lip, a gash just below the bridge of his nose. It wouldn't have been so bad if he didn't have dried blood all over his face. “Not until we wash all the blood off.” 

I grab a washcloth and dampen it under the sink and press it to his face, carefully washing all the blood off. He was clearly fighting back from wincing in pain. After he was all cleaned off I put some antibiotic ointment on his wounds, a Band-Aid on his nose, and pronounced him all fixed up. He turned and looked at himself in the mirror, admiring my handy work. “Thanks Marco,” he said while putting on the shirt, “I own you one.” I just smiled and said it was fine, not able think of anything a boy from the west side of town could give me. 

I looked over his face and wondered why I did this. Seeing his honey brown widen slightly in appreciation made me decide that that was why. He looked handsome when he isn’t scowling. He reached up to fix the blonde hair on the top of his head, a few pieces coming lose and hanging down. “Why hit the bottle and not go with the signature black?” I asked with a raised brow. He gave me an inquisitive look for a second before realizing what I was talking about. “Not my color. Besides, why look like every other guy in town?” I couldn't argue with him, especially since the blonde did look nice on him. 

“Hungry?” He shook his head and gave me a serious look. “I should probably scram before your keepers come back. Don't think they'd take too kindly to their Ivy Leaguer son spending time with a bruised up greaser.” Even though he was right, I wasn't quite ready to be away from him just yet, he was shockingly enjoyable to be around once you get past the rough exterior. “I'll drive you home; I don't want you walking home this late.” 

Jean protested me driving him home all the way to the car and all the way to the west side of town. He kept trying to get me to drop him off any place beside his own. After about thirty minutes of this game I started getting annoyed. Pulling the car over, I told him bluntly that I didn't feel like playing games and he better just tell me where he lives. He sighed and gave me a guilty look. “I'll clue you in, Marco. My family doesn't have the most money, and to be blunt with you I don't really want you to see my home.” He looked down at the soiled shirt in his hands, extremely embarrassed. 

I placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a soft smile. “Why would I make fun of you? Your situation is not fault of your own.” I was going to continue when he gave me a look that said I should stop. “You and I both know that even if that's how you feel it doesn't matter to the rest of the world. Today was so pointless. We're just going to go back to being strangers tomorrow, like today never happened.” I wanted badly to argue with him, to say that was a lie, but I knew he was right. As I was gathering my thoughts I heard the car door open. “My house is just a little while away, I've wasted enough of your gas today. Have a good night Marco. Thanks for today, I won't forget it.”  
Before I could protest he was already gone. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My mind was still on Jean when I walked into school and saw my locker had been broken into. I cursed under my breath and went to quickly check what had been stolen. Instead of something being taken, I found something else: a neatly folded black shirt. I looked around for Jean, and when I didn't see him in the crowd, I looked down at the shirt. On second glance I saw that there was a note on top which read: “Don't worry, I washed it. Thanks for letting me borrow it. If you want to hang out again show up to the theater at 7 on Friday.” I smile at the note, so much for us not being able to be friends. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a quarter to seven on Friday when I pull up to one of the very back stations of the drive in theater. I place the speaker in my car and wait. I few minutes later I hear a tapping in my window and look up to see a familiar leather jacket. I motion for him get in and he happily does so. We sit in silence for a while, not fully sure what to talk about. I let out a long sigh and break the silence. “So why did you ask me to meet you out here? You have some big plan for the night or something?” Giving me a smug look he shook his head. “What are you writing a book or something? I wanted to see a movie and hang out with my friend. What's so complicated about that?” I nod my head in agreeance and face the screen. 

The film was some cheesy science fiction stuff, so I quickly lost interest. “Are you really watching this, Jean, or did you not know what else we could do together?” His cheeks turned a slight pink as he looked at me. “I'm down for bouncing out of here if you are.” With that I took out the speaker and left. 

There are a few popular hangout spots in town, but since I didn't plan on playing backseat bingo with this boy most of them were not the most appropriate. I settle on a pretty remote cliff on the outskirts of town, hoping he doesn't get the wrong idea. Parking, I look over to gauge his reaction. “The stars are really pretty.” He said, settling into his seat. “You have anything in mind to talk about?” I sit back and think for a moment. “Tell me about yourself. We know nothing about each other.” He hummed to himself for a moment, thinking, before finally answering. 

“I'm a seventeen year old ball of anger. I like Elvis and Chuck Berry. I don't pay attention to style charts, I just like having my hair slicked back and out of my face. I hate Eren Jaeger with a passion. I get beat up daily from either him being an angry hub cap, or people having an issue with me liking boys. What about you?”  
I stared at him, trying to think of the last time I heard him talk so much. I tried to think of things to tell him about myself, but my mind could only focus on one thing. “What do you mean you like boys?” He gave a humorless laugh and shook his head. “I mean I prefer kissing up on the boys rather than the girls. If that makes you uncomfortable, I can leave. I'm not going to lie and say you don't have to worry because you're not my type, because I do think you're cute, but I'm not some sick asshole that will try to get with someone that's not interested.” 

I gave myself a minute to take that all in. Jean was gay and thought I was cute. I thought about for a little and realized it's no different than me being friends with a pretty girl, and that I had been admiring his good looks all day. I pushed that lost thought from my mind quickly. He having a crush on me sounded innocent enough. “I don't really mind as long as you don't try to pull something on me.” I laughed to show I truly was okay with it. He relaxed immensely. “So tell me about yourself?”  
“I'm seventeen as well. My dad is the manager of the local grocery store. I listen to whatever comes on the radio. I'm not too into fashion; I just have enough to buy the right brands, I guess. I don't really hate anyone, but there are plenty of people that my folks have deemed unacceptable.” I wanted to take back the last sentence the moment I said it because I knew what was coming. “Like me?” Jean was looking away from me, arms folded across his chest. “Yeah, like you. Good think I don't always listen to them right?” The end of his lips curled up into a smile. “Yeah.” 

With that out of the way, Jean and I just talk about nothing for a few hours. He did his impression of different classmates and complained about different teachers that seemed to have it out for him. We went on like that for a while, sharing little tidbits of our life, until it was nearing midnight. Jean had gotten progressively more tired throughout our conversation until he drifted off to sleep, head resting on my shoulder. I tried not to notice the pleasant smell of his hair grease, or how soft his hair felt on my skin.  
With his sleeping I decided it was time to take him home. I drove carefully as I could as to not wake him. I had never learned where Jean lived, so I just pulled up to where I dropped him off last time. “Jean, wakeup, I need you tell me where to drop you off.” He sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eye, yawning. His hair was standing up on his left side where he was leaning on me, looking absolutely adorable. When he was awake enough, he took in his surroundings. “This is fine. Goodnight Marco, I had a great time.” Then he did something I didn’t expect, he kissed me on the cheek. 

We looked at each other in shock. Jean looked absolutely horrified, as if I was going to attack him for something so silly. I started to say his name when he high tailed it out of my car. I knew following him would be pointless, even though I had only known him for a short time, there was no point in talking to a scared Jean. I sighed and headed toward home.  
I thought of the terrified look Jean had given me and what kissing the wrong person could mean for him. He had said he’s been beat up for his sexuality before, daily even. Personally, I would never hurt him over anything so innocent, but there are plenty of people who would be happy to do it for me. Then I thought of something even scarier, I kind of liked it. I couldn’t imagine what my parents would say if they found out. 

Getting home, I put on a brave face and went inside and greeted my parents. I lied and said the movie was good and went to my room. Closing my door, I let out a shaky sigh. I had a lot of thinking to do.

I liked Jean and that much was clear. He was a fun person to be around, and made me smile. That much could be said about any of my friends. The key difference was how I felt about his looks. He was handsome, no doubt about that. I had to decide if this feeling was just me knowing when a person looked good, or if it was a crush. I thought about the past week, and the more I thought about it the more I realized I truly liked him. I was scared of this realization, but I was comforted to know that Jean felt the same way. 

Jean has said he thought I was cute, so I didn’t have to worry about unrequited feelings. The most comforting thing though, was that Jean would understand. I don’t need to worry about him judging me for not wanting to be open about these feelings. I fell asleep knowing we’d work things out. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Monday came around slowly. When I entered the school, I instantly started scanning the crowd of people looking for a familiar crop of slicked back blonde hair. I had decided to tell him that I wasn’t mad in the least bit, though I was going to leave out the fact that it was because I liked him. The entire day I was worried about him, checking my locker after every class to see if he broke into it to leave a note. 

At lunch Reiner was being a germ and asking why I was so upset. I realized I need to tell someone about my inner turmoil so I spilled my guts. I told him about how I helped Jean, and how I thought he was really sweet despite his rough exterior. Then, after some deliberation, I decided on telling him about how Jean kissed my cheek and the fact that I liked Jean. He gave me a serious look. “If you like him I’m not going to judge you, but you have to understand that a lot of people will. A lot of people are going to hate you, but you can power through it if you have each other. You need to decide how much you’re willing to risk over a maybe crush.” I considered what he said and decided I wanted to try. If I like Jean, and it works out, then that’s awesome, but if I don’t, then I could put this all behind me. The main thing was that I needed closure. 

Just then I notice a leather jacket in the corner of my vision, and turn to see a shy looking Jean from across the courtyard. Reiner tells me it is okay, so I get up to go talk to him. He looks down at his shoes, looking like an adorable child. Before he could say something stupid I took his hand and led him to the parking lot. “Am I right in assuming you’re fine with cutting class?” When I saw what I thought was a small nod I started walking faster. Coming to my car I unlock it and got in. Reluctantly, Jean got in as well. I saw how uneasy he was, so I tried to put his mind at ease. “Hey, I’m not going to hurt you, promise.” Hearing this, he relaxed, even if it was only a little bit. We left the parking lot, riding in silence for a while. After some deliberation, I decided to go back to the cliff from Friday. 

Parking I looked toward him and examined him. He had dark circles under his normally bright brown eyes, his normally neat hair was dropping in his face, and he looked like he had slept in his clothes. I felt bad that I was the cause of all this distress. Signing, I decided the address the most pressing issue and said “I’m not mad at you.” Hearing this, his head snapped up and he looked at me slacked jawed. “You’re not?” He asked with a voice so meek and cute I had to laugh. “How could I be mad over something so simple?” he looked away from me. “I’ve been beaten up for less.” Hearing that broke my heart. I may not have known Jean for long, but I knew he didn’t deserve that, no one did. “Jean, those people are assholes that are scared of things they don’t understand. Can I tell you something?” he nodded. “I liked it. I’m not one hundred perfect sure where I am with my feelings right now, but I know I can’t hate you over something so simple. I want to still be your friend, if that’s okay.” Jean just placed his head on my shoulder and mumbled a thank you, which was as good as a yes in my book. I leaned my cheek against his hair and looked out at the landscape in front of us. I’m not sure where we were going from here, but I have a feeling we’ll be okay. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jean sat with me at lunch the next day, earning a few odd looks from people. I didn’t care; I just wanted to spend lunch with my friend.  
After my final class I came to find that my locker had again been broken into. Inside was a note that said to meet Jean at the local burger place at 6 tonight. I smiled, wondering what he had planned, and also why he couldn’t have just put the note in the slots in my locker. 

That afternoon I show up to the dinner. Jean had clearly gotten some more sleep, the brightness of his eyes had come back. He had taken great care to make sure his hair was perfectly slicked back, not a hair out of place. He looked good. “Hey Marco, I ordered us some shakes, my treat.” He had two chocolate shakes in front of him, a straw in each. Deciding to be daring I pluck the straw out of one and placed it in the other. “This okay?” Jean turned bright pink, but didn’t protest, instead opting to just nod.  
That’s how our afternoon together went. Small gestures to hint at our true feelings, blushing when our eyes met. After our meal, we walked side by side back to my car. Slipping in next to me he placed his head on my shoulder, humming along to Bobby Darin’s “Dream Lover.” I felt perfectly content with him, us, whatever we were together. 

Pulling up to the usual spot where I drop him off, he said “Take this next right and then the left; it’ll be the blue house.” I smiled at this act of trust, trying not to seem too excited. Making the left a small one story blue home came into the view. The driveway was cracked, the paint was peeling, but the flowers out front were perfectly manicured. “I like your flowers.” He sat up and looked at his house. “Thanks, my mom loves gardening; I just wish more people noticed her work.” I hum in agreeance and get out of the car with Jean following me. “It’s kind of like you. People just see all the negative without stopping to see the flowers.” He looked down and blushed, which I deiced, is my favorite look on him.  
We stand on his front porch looking at each other. I wasn’t fully sure of my feelings, but I knew I liked Jean to some enough to find him cute and endearing. There was only was only one way to find out if it truly was a romantic, so I leaned in and pressed a light kiss to his lips. “Goodnight Jean.” His blush grew darker at the gesture. He pulled me into a hug and nuzzled my shoulder. “Goodnight Marco.” I give him a light squeeze and then start to back toward my car, watching him go inside.

Driving home, I wasn’t sure how things were going to end up, but I knew as long as I had Jean, it would be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of 1950's slang is used in this story, even though a lot of it is pretty obvious, here is a link so you can see the meanings of the ones that I used, as well as some there fun ones: http://www.citrus.k12.fl.us/staffdev/Social%20Studies/PDF/Slang%20of%20the%201950s.pdf
> 
> Also this is Marco's car, a 1953 Buick Skylark. http://www.seriouswheels.com/pics-1950-1959/1953-Buick-Skylark-Matador-Red-3.jpg


End file.
